


The Boogeyman

by neil4god



Category: John Wick (2014), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neil4god/pseuds/neil4god
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's not what you did, Son, that angers me so... It's who you did it to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched this movie (totally awesome; check it out) and my brain got taken over by the idea of this being Stiles, I don't know if it'll be more than this, so I'm putting it as a one-shot for now and we'll see.

That was Stiles Stilinksi’s car and there was no fucking way he was touching it. Just because the dipshit who stole it didn’t know any better didn’t mean he didn’t. He needed to get the stupid twit out of his shop before he got them all killed. Frankly Derek was amazed the stupid fuck had been able to get the drop on Stiles, although considering the Sheriff’s funeral was two days ago, maybe he shouldn’t be. Everyone needed time to grieve. Derek really hoped he wasn’t around when Stiles snapped out of it enough to come looking for his car. He had a thing about that jeep, something to do with his mom. Stiles might be a fucking psycho and the best wetwork-man in the business, but he was seriously sentimental.  
  


Matt was smiling at him, eyes glowing with glee, telling him he owned Derek. Like fuck! His knuckles left a line of red across Matt’s cheekbone, his entire body toppled with the force of Derek’s punch. He was screaming about telling his daddy, and really, who the fuck did this kid think he was? “You know what he likes or doesn’t like, I’ll tell you something, he’s gonna’ understand.” Matt’s goons were lifting him up, shoving him into Stiles’ car as they screamed threats at Derek. He let it all slide. The only thing that mattered is Stiles. He would be here shortly, looking for his car and Derek.  
  
He flexed the muscles in his back and called out to his sister that he would be taking a trip. She glared at him hard, just like mom used to before going back into the office and telling him to be careful. To outsides they didn’t seem that close, strangers thought it was weird that they ran a shop together yet barely spoke, but Derek talked to Laura all the time in low hushed tones that only a werewolf could hear. Stiles’ heartbeat brought him out of his stupor. The erratic sound of it had always had a calming effect on him, no matter what the circumstances.  
  


The guys in the shop all paused and let the kid come through, he was nearly thirty but he still looked twenty-two, good genes. There wasn’t anyone in Beacon Hills who didn’t know who he was, either specifically or through his reputation, Stiles was not someone to fuck with. Derek waited patiently, two glasses of whiskey laid out like an offering on top of his Camaro. “She here?” Derek slid one glass to Stiles and watched his throat as he swallowed, before replying, “She was, dipshit Matt brought it by.” With nimble fingers Stiles placed his glass back on the bonnet and reached for Derek’s half full one. “The Daehler-Lahey boy?”  


Derek was mesmerized by those hands tapping away at the crystal. It took a force of will to look away and answer, “He thinks he’s hotshit since his mom married Lahey. He’s going to take over. Lahey’s leaving him his entire empire.”  
Those amber eyes looked into his, startled and confused, “What about his real kid, Isaac?”  
He tried not to think about Isaac. Lahey was a horrible parent who did vile things to his only remaining son. Since Camden died he’d come down hard on Isaac, too hard. “Too soft. Lahey’s spent the past couple years trying to toughen him up, scary shit, make you want to sleep with a nightlight. He likes Matt better. Kids as fucked up as he is.”  
“Think he’d be willing to trade?”  
He was so sincere it hurt, Derek hated to see him in pain like this. “For Isaac sure. Matt no. You could let it go Stiles, just this once, your dad wanted you out of this life.”  
His dad had been desperate to get him out, he was a cop and a good man, all he’d ever wanted for his son was a normal life. Stiles had never been normal. If he hadn’t fallen in with their crowd he would have ended up a serial killer or some deranged psycho. There was a darkness in him that called out to Derek. “I’ll need a car.”  
Derek smiled and patted the bonnet of the Camaro, “Figured we could take mine.”  


Stiles gave him that sad big eyed smile all full of concern and appreciation as he muttered, “I’m doing this alone Derek.”  
No! No fucking way was he letting Stiles go up against Lahey and his goons without backup. In a last ditch attempt to get him to see reason, Derek pitched his voice low and begged, “It was a car Stiles, call Lahey, he’ll send it back all shiny and new. Please don’t do this.”  
Lahey had already been onto Derek, reprimanding him for hitting his boy, until Derek explained of course. Derek could hear his heart beating rabbit fast in fear from the other end of the line. He would do anything to get Stiles off his back, no-one wanted Stiles after them, especially not now when he was grief stricken. What normal restraint he had was discarded, instead the primal thing inside Stiles that made him hunt and kill had taken over full force. Whatever checks Stiles used to have keeping him in control, where long gone. As if he knew what Derek was thinking, Stiles leaned closer and told him, “He killed my dog Derek. He killed Boss Hog. He’s the only thing I had left and that fucker smashed his brains in. I’m going to break him into tiny little pieces and I’m gonna’ make sure he lives while I do it.”  
“Then I’m coming with you, you’ll need someone to watch your back.”  



	2. Chapter 2

He wanted to run but he was afraid of drawing attention to himself. Instead he huddled against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, trying to be as small as possible. His father was in a mood, this time it seemed like more than anger, if Isaac hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was fear. He took slow deep breaths and prayed they would leave the room soon. Lydia was perched on a high barstool, her high heels clicking against the aluminium bar in time with the soft jazz filtering through the speakers. Isaac was considering bolting for the door when it swung open and Matt waltzed in, head high and eyes searching. Ducking his head low Isaac tried to be invisible. He wasn’t very good at it, given the unholy gleam in Matt’s eyes, but whatever he intended to do to him was halted when his father stood two paces in front of him and shoved his fist into his stomach. Matt went down hard, vomiting on the pristine tiled floor. It wasn’t too surprising, after all, Matt wasn’t used to being hit. He didn’t know how to take a punch like Isaac did. 

Still, something must be really bad if Matt was being punished. Lifting him to his feet Frank shoved the boy against the nearest wall, thankfully on the opposite side to Isaac. “Do you have any idea what you have brought upon us? What your reckless actions have done?”  
Matt was shaking in his father’s grip, his eyes wide and his lip stained with vomit. “I’m sorry, I swear whatever it is I can fix it!”   
The grip on Matt was slipping, becoming softer as his father muttered, “You will do nothing because you can do nothing. He is coming for you and I cannot protect you, not from him.” He sounded heart-broken, like Camden had died all over again, he never spent that amount of emotion on Isaac. 

Confused, Matt whined “I don’t understand, I didn’t do anything!”   
Dark eyes flashed to Matt’s, his next words like a slap across the face, “You stole his car and killed his dog two days after his father’s funeral. You have brought ruin to us!”  
Lydia’s entire body tensed, her head tilted towards the pair as she worked through something in her head. Whatever answer she came up with, it didn’t make her happy. Her lips compressed into a tight line and she looked ready to pull a gun and shoot Matt, especially when he scoffed, “That kid? You’re scared of some fucking kid? It’s no big deal, I’ll kill him and bring you his head.”   
Lydia’s fingernails dug into the bartop like nails on a chalkboard, making everyone wince. His father looked back at her and swiftly turned back to Matt to get away from her death glare. Even his father knew better than to mess with Lydia Martin. 

Desperate to make Matt understand, he told him, “That kid is Stiles Stilinski. He is the man they send to kill the boogeyman and now he is coming for you.”   
Isaac sucks in a scared breath. He remembers Stiles, he was probably the closest thing he ever had to a friend. It was Stiles who slaughtered Camden’s murderers. He hung their corpses from the rafters and let their blood soak into the skin of his next target. Afterwards he laid them out all pretty for the dinner service to take care of. Those where some of the most terrifying men Isaac had ever had the misfortune to meet, but Stiles broke each one before they died, he wanted them to feel the same terror Camden had. He let Isaac watch, an early birthday present he called it, he was only nine. Matt’s bellow cut through his thoughts, “We have an army!”  
Isaac had to fight not to laugh, as if they were any match for Stiles. For once his father seemed to agree with him, telling Matt, “It won’t be enough. We were colleague’s once, my empire is built on the ashes of his kills, I will try Matt, but Stiles has always been oddly sentimental about that car and has never once let an enemy live.”   


Maybe this was his chance to escape Matt, Stiles wouldn’t kill his father, but he would take out Matt without hesitation. It would be nice to be able to relax at home again, instead of living in constant fear. His father had allowed Matt to contribute to his punishments, to help make him better. He knew he was defective and he needed their help to get better, but he hated it. He hated being locked in the freezer for days on end sitting in his own piss and terrified he would never see daylight again. He hated the casual abuse and violence, even if it was for his own good, he wished they didn’t enjoy it so much. Lately Matt has been eyeing him up like a juicy steak and bringing home boys who look like him to fuck. He’s afraid his father will add that to his punishments as well, Matt had already tried to convince him that he could cure him with his dick. Matt’s punishments had become a daily occurrence now and were always tinged with sex. He bought himself a flogger last week and Isaac was petrified he was going to want to break it in soon. He had seen what happened to the pretty boys Matt liked to fuck. They were never very pretty after. In fact, some of them didn’t even make it out of the bedroom. Matt had to call the dinner service and pay the exorbitant fee for them to dispose of the body.   
  
It brought a smile to his face to think of Matt being wrapped in cellophane and shoved into the back of a van for disposal. He wondered if Stiles would let him watch while he killed him?


	3. Chapter 3

  
Hotel D’Argent was a haven for their kind. It didn’t matter if you were mob, freelance or an assassin, so long as you could pay and didn’t cause trouble, you could stay. The hotel had a very serious no fighting policy and the Argent’s enforced it with a gleeful pride that scared off anyone with sense. It was the best place to stay in the city, they laundered blood stains, advised on weapon concealment, helped hide bodies (for a fee) and even gave alibies (for an even more exorbinant fee). It was Stiles’ favourite hotel, he could stay there and not have to watch his back, he could mingle with others like him in the underground club, he could make contacts and do it all without fear of being shot or kidnapped.

Derek was less fond of it. He had a thing about the Argents. Kate had fucked him over when he was younger, stringing him along and then using him for access so she could slaughter his family in their beds. Chris Argent killed her for breaking their neutrality but it still left a bad taste in his mouth, walking through these halls knowing she chose the décor, although it does look different now. Kate’s taste seems to have been irradicated entirely. He can feel eyes on him, watching them move towards the reception desk. A subtle look shows him mobsters and assassins staring openly at Stiles, fear on their faces as they take in his immaculate suit. Stiles always wears a suit when he works, it’s how everyone knows he’s ‘on’. Some do a double take when they see Derek, sigh in relief or twist up in fear. They’re torn between thinking Derek will control Stiles’ rage (which he won’t) and that they’re worse together because Derek is notorious for his own rage issues. For years Stiles has been reining in Derek, keeping him from the worst of his rages, calming him down, making him better. Most of the people here have seen that, so if they expect his to somehow reciprocate, they should know he’s not capable. 

They’re just at the reception desk when something twinges his senses, it’s gone in an instant, but it was malevolent. There was someone here who was gleefully happy to see them together. His wolf didn’t like that one bit. He’d experience with that kind of glee, it was malignant and never worked out well. A few years ago, someone had tried to use him to get to Stiles, of course it hadn’t worked. Derek had beat him to a bloody pulp then watched as Stiles ripped his skin from his bones and left him bleeding out in a heap on the dirty floor of the steel-mill. He didn’t even look human anymore, just a lump of meat shivering in the cool air. They fucked right in front of him before they left. Word got out, there were camera’s after all, no-one had dared use them against each other since then. Apart they were a threat, pissed off they were terrifying and that protects them, no-one could take them out together and to leave one alive, was suicide. 

Unable to trace the scent Derek re-focused on the reception desk, Stiles was chatting pleasantly with Chris Argent, complimenting him on the new décor and double checking it was still the underworld equivalent of Switzerland. Derek nodded pleasantly at the older man, well aware he had to play nice and to be fair, Chris handled Kate’s betrayal with aplomb. He did everything right and Derek could respect that. He could also smell his uncle’s come seeping into Chris’ belly so he stayed three feet back, desperate not to get too close to smell other things too. He might not like it, but it made his wolf perk up to smell family, it had been at least a year since he’d seen Peter. Of course it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he was here, he had always had an odd kind of fascination with Chris. Derek strongly suspects that it was Peter who killed Victoria Argent a month after she gave birth to Allison. Peter had been enchanted by the baby and had offered to help raise her once her mother was gone. The way Chris jumped at the offer was like a dying man craving water in a desert, the two had been inseparable ever since. This was the first time Derek had ever smelled them on each other though. Chris had been fighting to keep that relationship platonic for nearly two decades, looks like he finally lost.


End file.
